


you know everything about me now

by aceofdiamonds



Series: i've been dreaming // parvati patil has a thing with harry potter au [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Sixth year AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofdiamonds/pseuds/aceofdiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Classmates' relatives are being brutally murdered and the most evil dark wizard of all time is on the rise but in secret corridors behind tapestries she never knew existed she has the boy who's destined to save them all's mouth on her neck and his hands on her thighs and it's tragic what's happening outside these walls, disgustingly evil, but she's sixteen and this boy is making her feel like nothing is wrong at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you know everything about me now

**Author's Note:**

> it's hbp au mostly with the main events happening as they do in the book but ginny having no romantic plot with harry. the timeline is a little messed up i think. i keep slipping bits of hero worship into everything i write involving harry, a reflection of my own feelings probably. there's probably many mistakes. i apologise
> 
> i don't own the characters or anything do with harry potter

 

Harry snaps on the third day back after summer. Parvati sits in a chair in the corner and watches him shout and clench his fists and when the glass trophy container shatters the nearest students step back, so unsure of what to make of "The Chosen One." It's bad for publicity, Parvati thinks, to let your loyal fans see you weak. 

(Parvati's seen Harry weak, in whatever way that word means. She's seen him faint several times and fall off his broom from 100 feet and she’s watched him lose his temper on countless occasions at anyone and everyone. He's moody and secretive to anyone outside of his circle and he carries guilt like a cloak wrapped tight around his shoulders and he’s cost Gryffindor so many points over the years. But, on the other hand, one the hand that shows Parvati, someone on the fringes of his friendship circle, that maybe they're lucky he's "The Chosen One", whatever that label entails, there’re a few positives. He's an excellent teacher and so fiercely loyal to anyone who deserves it. And Parvati hasn't seen him fight, not properly, in a matter of life and death, but she's heard the stories, it's all common knowledge, heard of his Expelliarmus to repel a Killing Curse, and she doesn't really know much about Quidditch but he looks like he belongs in the sky. He’s a bad dancer, but endearingly so, she guesses, and he doesn't back down from his story or his promises and sometimes he laughs so hard he cries. It's a close call but the pros outweigh the cons.)

Harry glares at the glass, waves his wand violently to repair the cabinet, and then turns on his heel and heads up the staircase to the boys' dormitory. Ron and Hermione follow after a discussion of bent heads and frantic gestures, talking about things no one else will ever know. As soon as the three are gone whispers erupt around the room like they're scared Harry will hear them. Bouts of nervous laughter and "Told you so"s are audible above the hush. 

A tiny Gryffindor, one half of the two Parvati's seen yap around Harry's ankles, stands and says, "If Harry really is the one who’s going to k-kill You-Know-Who we should support him for doing what he can to save the wizarding world instead of making him feel threatened within his own house. You should be ashamed of yourself."  

It's very well said. Parvati joins in with the applause. 

\--

Her parents didn’t want them to come back to Hogwarts this year. Parvati can’t say she doesn’t see their reasoning; there’s a knot in her stomach the size of a Bludger that makes her chest tight every morning when the owls fly in. A third-year left the Hufflepuff table in tears yesterday and he hasn’t been the first.

Parvati thinks the belief that Dumbledore is the only man You-Know-Who has ever feared still has some truth in it but it’s hard to keep believing in someone who isn’t there half the time, his empty chair a reminder that there’s a group of people out there killing anyone in their way to power and only a few enchantments are keeping them out of the place Parvati and hundreds of other kids have felt safest.

Her parents don’t know about the loyalties within Hogwarts, though, the things holding the school together. They don’t know that their daughters are part of an illegal organisation run by Harry Potter and that he’s the reason she got an E for Defence Against the Dark Arts. They don’t know that Harry taught her how to Stun properly and gave her the confidence to cast the first hex in a duel and he’s the one who helped her produce a Patronus, a corporeal horse cantering amongst the otters and cats and squirrels created by the happiest memories.

(She always thinks of her and Padma’s ninth birthday. Their dad had taken them to a Muggle cinema where they watched talking moving pictures tell a story. She remembers feeling so warm and cosy in that room with her two favourite people and toffee stuck in her teeth but what she remembers most is that feeling of awe that Muggles had created their own form of magic without spells or wands, with just their minds and some fiddly equipment. That night they had gone home and she had told her mum she wanted to work with Muggles to create those wonderful films. Her mum had laughed and pulled them all into a hug and told Parvati and Patil that they could be anything they wanted to be, the conviction in her voice so strong Parvati couldn’t see how she couldn’t believe her. It’s easy to see why it’s Parvati’s happiest memory.

No one predicted another war back then, not after the horrors of the first one, not after the Boy Who Lived.)

Parvati feels safe here at Hogwarts. This is her home and she had told her parents as much, Padma by her side, and their parents had slowly, eventually, backed down. She's not sure how long they can keep this up, sooner or later their parents are going to win and Parvati's going to have to leave Hogwarts behind before she's ready.

\--

Parvati doesn't go to the first Hogsmeade weekend. She has two rolls of parchment to do for Monday for Divination on the pros and cons of Cartomancy and anyway, she doesn't like the snow, it makes her feet wet and she's never been able to master drying spells. She tells Lavender to have fun on her date with that tall Ravenclaw Chaser and then spreads her stuff on the table at the fire. The open books and pieces of parchment don't do as much for her productivity as she hoped; when everyone comes spilling back into the common room she wakes with a jerk, her quill stuck to her cheek. 

Katie Bell has been cursed. Someone gave her a necklace to pass onto Dumbledore, the rumours are saying, and she touched it by accident and now she's at St. Mungos. Harry, Ron and Hermione are involved of course. She's heard people call them the Golden Trio and it's such a stupid nickname but, in a way, it fits. She doesn't know why and she doesn't know how but times are so dark that it's nice to have the idea of Harry Potter, the shining beacon of hope, who must at least have _some_ idea of how this whole horrible war could end.

He's sitting across the room from her, that shining beacon of hope. He looks angry; it's been a common look for him the last couple of years, understandably, of course. She imagines that if her great enemy had come back to life and no one believed her she would be upset too. 

She cranes her neck just a little to see that the frustration is directed towards Ron and Hermione who are doing matching smiles of pity and shaking their heads. It's not the first time they've fought, Parvati's heard the tears from behind Hermione's curtains, but this set-up: Harry vs RonandHermione, is uncommon. 

"And then he bought me another Butterbeer even though I told him -- Parvati, are you listening to me?"

"What?" Parvati turns her head just as Harry looks over in her direction, frown still clouding his face. "Yeah."

Lavender huffs. "Who are you _looking_ at?" 

"No one," Parvati insists, glancing over one last time to see Harry now alone, his hand pressing at his forehead right on his scar. "Daydreaming. So, did you kiss him?"

She laughs when Lavender acts out the awkward parting in the Entrance Hall and when her eyes wander over to that corner, completely subconsciously obviously, it's empty. 

\--

She's looking for an empty classroom one afternoon to study in because it's so hard to concentrate in the common room, there's nowhere to work properly in the dormitories, and she hates studying in the library unless it's absolutely necessary; it's dull and stuffy and it's always hard to find a table to yourself. What she's discovering, however, is that it's equally difficult finding an empty room.

She finally finds one on the south side of the castle facing the lake and slips inside, dumping her books on the table nearest the window. It's a form of torture, maybe, sitting this near the perfect view, or maybe it's the ideal motivation. She drags out her Defence essay, the one Snape gave them last week and is expecting tomorrow with _no excuses_ , and collapses onto a chair, and tells herself that if she starts now and works quickly she might be finished before the sun goes down. At the start of the year she had told herself to make use of the castle and its grounds more, considering the mess going on outside the protective enchantments she has the feeling she has to make the most of the illusion of safety, and she plans on doing that by exploring all the places she's never thought to look before, walking in the grounds more.

Two hours later she's halfway through her essay and completely fed up. There's nothing else to be said about Polyjuice Potion that she hasn't said already and she knows Snape hates recycled points. Her elbow slips and her head falls to the book in front of her where she groans into the cool wood of the table, inventing excuse after excuse for Snape as to why she hasn't completed her homework, a snort at the thought of Snape showing her any kindness making the pages flutter.

She sits up and stretches, turning her head to watch the sun sink behind the trees. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she'll walk all the way around the lake and take in everything she can. If only she had one of those Muggle objects for taking pictures so she could take a piece of the castle with her, so she could capture the way the sun is setting over the lake, the sky changing from blue to orange to red.

She's just about to get up to leave, promises to finish the essay in her free period before break tomorrow half-formed, when the door opens and Harry slips inside, shutting it gently before making his way over to a table at the back and sitting on it, his feet on the pulled out chair in front. It all looks so routine leaving Parvati to wonder how often he comes here. She holds her breath and watches as he grits his teeth and fidgets and thinks he looks similar to how she felt when her grandfather died two years ago. That look of pain on his face doesn't look like his normal scar related hurt, it's a pain that's felt deep inside. His mouth opens and a broken sound falls out.

Parvati's intruding here, she shouldn't be seeing this, but when she gets up to leave the chair scrapes the floor and his head shoots up, his mouth falling into a defensive line.

"Parvati," he says quietly, like maybe he's not even sure she's here. She could leave now without saying anything and pretend like it never happened. "Sorry. I thought this room was empty. I didn't -- I can leave."

"Don't," Parvati says, standing now, a book clutched in her hand. "I was just leaving." She says this as she puts down the book and slowly walks to the back of the room, her feet putting themselves one in front of the other without her knowing why. "Do you want to talk about it?" She might be intruding here or maybe she's offering what everyone else thinks is better left alone.

It's not what Harry is expecting. It's obvious in the way he tenses, his forehead creased, that no one has actually asked him that. She and Lavender have always likened him to an unstable spell that no one quite knows how to work, one that could go off at any moment, shattering everyone around him. Here, though, here he just looks like a boy who has lost too much and doesn't know how to handle it.

He unfolds, his arms uncrossing. "I haven't talked about it with anyone."

"Harry, it's up to you. I just thought you might not have had the chance to and talking can help." She doesn't know what she's doing here. She doesn't think Harry knows either.

He looks up and she's struck by how young he looks with his face more open than she's ever seen it. She's used to him putting on a front, hiding it all away, but here he is with his eyes dark with grief and his mouth tight on the brink of falling over the edge.

"Thanks," he says, and there's that crack in his voice that makes Parvati feel simultaneously out of her depth and wanting him to give in and _cry_. "Thanks for just --"

"Don't worry about it, Harry. I think I know how you feel." When her grandpa died it felt like the world was spinning faster and faster under her feet leaving her breathless and confused as she tried to keep up.

Harry nods, frowning, and goes to reach out to her, pulling his hand back before he makes contact. She smiles and touches his hand, waits for him to turn it over so she can thread her fingers through his. "My godfather died before summer," he says suddenly. He trips on the words and looks somewhere over her shoulder and Parvati guesses this is the first time he's felt the words in his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"Sirius Black. He was my godfather." He looks at her then like he's expecting her to retract her condolences because he's mourning the man who brought the Dementors to the school in their third year and who murdered a street full of Muggles the night Harry's parents died but he's underestimating her -- she's read the papers, she knows Sirius Black was innocent after all.

She goes to say she's sorry again but stops because she knows that those words don't really help. "I imagine you miss him a lot." She wishes she'd gone with the sorry. "The Prophet said he was very brave."

"The only good thing they've ever written," Harry scoffs. "It's my fault he died."

"Harry --"

"It was. He was trying to save me. If I hadn't been so naive. If I had only listened to Dumbledore and practised more this might never have happened." He's crying now, not much, but tears are falling down his cheeks and his hand is trembling in Parvati's. She holds on tighter.

"Harry, I wasn't there that night at the Ministry so here's a complete outsider's opinion - it's not your fault your godfather died. I know you think it is and I know how stubborn you are but please let me tell you that it's not your fault and thinking it is is going to make things so much harder, you have to trust me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." When she presses her lips to his he tastes scared, his lips salty with tears. She shifts a couple of inches closer, thanking every god and angel she can think of when Harry doesn't push her away but instead opens his mouth hesitantly, the change in conversation a surprise he isn't running screaming from, and when she goes for it and slides her tongue into his mouth and moves her hand to his shoulder, she can taste the ache he must feel constantly. 

"I'm sorry," she says as soon as they break apart -- and here she notes that his eyes are closed, lashes spiky with tears almost reaching his cheeks, and that maybe this is what he needed in some far out way. "I shouldn't have done that --" she tries to say, tries to excuse it but Harry touches her hand where it's resting on her knee inches from his own and look, there's a smile, she did that. 

"No. I'm glad you did." He tries another smile, this one's better, and there's a tear halfway down his cheek that Parvati has to fight the impulse to brush away. "Parvati. Thanks."

She stands, Harry's eyes following her. "Hey, Harry, my mum always told me the ones who love us never truly leave us. It's not much comfort at the moment I know but I hope it helps a little in the future."

She gathers her books in a pile, the hastily essay folded clumsily on top, and leaves before Harry can reply. With one last glance over her shoulder she sees him move over to the window and thinks that maybe she's helped a little bit, softened the edges, but of course this is Harry Potter and you can never really tell anything about him at all. 

\--

"I just don't know if he's interested for sure yet, Pav, and I don't want to jinx anything..." 

"I'm not going to steal him from you," Parvati replies, flicking her wand absent-mindedly and sighing when her cushion twitches feebly instead of flying across the room. "So I don't know what the big deal is."

"It's complicated," Lavender sighs, waving her wand to send her cushion perfectly into the targeted box. "What about you? You need to get out there, you haven't had a boyfriend in ages."

She hasn't had a boyfriend full stop. There had been the Beauxbatons boy, John, but he became boring in the letters he wrote to her so stopped replying, and there had been a boy in fifth year, a Hufflepuff, but hat hadn't lasted past a date and a kiss. She always thought Dean was kind of interested but by the time she really listened to what he was saying he was pulling Ginny Weasley into his lap over breakfast and that had been that. It's not that she doesn't want one, she wouldn't particularly mind if someone suddenly asked her out, but it's not something she thinks about much. Of course if _Harry_ asked her out, well, she might think about that.

It's stupid thinking into it too much. So she kissed him. It was for comfort, an impulsive move that didn't end as badly as it could have. And yes, he dropped behind Ron and Hermione yesterday and walked her to class, running a hand through his hair and smiling in that unsure way that the Prophet twists and calls arrogant, but it was a friend talking to a friend, if that, nothing more. They'd had a perfectly normal conversation about Care of Magical Creatures and how guilty they both felt at not taking it to N.E.W.T level and when they reached their Defence class he had nudged at her arm and smiled, laughing when Parvati rolled her eyes and pushed him away. They’ve never been particularly close, Harry’s life has always been too hectic for that, Parvati content with Lavender’s friendship, and then of course the Yule Ball had soured things for a while, but she thinks talking to Harry more might not the the worst thing in the world.

"There's no one in particular," she says, her disinterested tone perfected. "Who is it you like? Tell me, Lavender, come on."

Lavender giggles. "I'll tell you soon. Firenze said I should be careful of my secrets while Venus is aligned with Saturn."

"I'm your best friend, Lav," Parvati pushes because Lavender keeps looking over in Harry's direction, giggling and tossing her hair, and Parvati's mind is jumping to every possible outcome.

"Wait for Saturn to move, P," she says. Lavender has been her best friend since the day they both set foot in this place and Parvati loves her, she does, but sometimes, just occasionally, she wants to hex her.

\--

"Parvati, hey."

Parvati spins to see Harry standing behind her. He's smiling, she's pleased to see, and when he walks towards her she smiles back.

"Hi."

"I just wanted to say thanks again for the other night," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I really -- well, yeah. Thanks."

She doesn't know what to do here. Does she shrug it off, it was nothing? Does she apologise again for kissing him? But he seemed to enjoy that bit. She liked it too. She touches her lip with the pad of her finger, blushing when Harry's smile gets bigger. This is something here. At least, it's got the potential to be something. "You're welcome," she says, knowing that's the right answer from the way Harry's shoulders collapse in relief.

"I just wanted to ask," he starts, stopping hesitantly. "Who it was you lost?"

"My grandfather."

"I'm sorry," and it sounds so sincere, so unlike the many others she had gotten at the time. 

"Thanks." They stand in the middle of the hallway, Parvati tucking her hair behind her ear over and over again and Harry rocking from foot to foot. She doesn't know how to nudge this into gear.

"Are you coming to the match on Saturday?"

"I always do."

"I'll look for you in the stands," Harry promises, and this is how it evolves.

\--

Lavender's dating Ron. It happens after the match with a kiss showy enough to make Parvati roll her eyes and pretend to retch later when Lavender tells her just how dreamy he is and how his lips are so soft. This is Ron, Ron Weasley, their classmate for the last six years, and okay, yes he has filled out and his hair isn't so bad anymore, but dreamy still seems a stretch.

Hermione takes it badly, Parvati notices. The Golden Trio haven't been a trio since, the slightly more familiar set up of HarryHermione vs Ron becoming clear over breakfast when Lavender wriggles her way onto Ron's lap. Harry catches Parvati's eye across Lavender's shoulder and rolls his eyes, Parvati returning it with a wink.

\--

They have this thing, her and Harry, of completely accidentally walking in on each other in empty classrooms. Lavender would call it fate, Padma would call it a coincidence, and Parvati calls it odd. This time it’s not as accidental as usual, it’s more the fact that Parvati is walking back to the common room one night after a meeting with Trelawney and she hears a weird noise coming from a room on the fifth floor. She checks for ghosts nearby and then knocks quietly and opens the door to find Harry lying on one of the tables laughing.

“Harry.” Fate is ringing loudly in her head.

Harry tilts his head back to peer at her upside down, his glasses crooked. He looks happy from this angle.

“Oh. I’ve got this stupid Slug Club party tomorrow night and I still haven’t got anyone to go with,” he says morosely.

“What about Hermione?”

Harry shakes his head, tapping on the table with his wand. “She’s already asked someone. I think she’s trying to make Ron jealous --” he waves his hand through the air, his nose wrinkled. “I don’t want to get involved in their -- whatdyacallit.”

“Relationship?”

“Yes, that’s the one.” Harry grins, his whole face lighting up. “Hey, Parvati, you know I would ask you, right? But our last date didn’t go so well, I didn’t think you would want to go again -- even though I would dance with you this time, I promise. How about it?”

Parvati laughs and she moves over to sit on the table beside Harry. “That was almost as good as my invitation to the Yule Ball. As hard as it is to say no to that I'm going home before the party."

"Your parents?"

Parvati nods. There's been four Dementor attacks in the past month and there're rumours of giants coming in from the North; her parents had insisted they come home and when she and Padma had protested once again they had made a compromise to go through the Floo Network a couple of nights before everyone else is leaving. It's not a bad deal, it's not like Parvati had any plans keeping her here.

"Remember we went to the Yule Ball together, remember that?" Harry is saying now. She can smell the alcohol on his breath from here.

Yeah. She remembers. She remembers writing to her mum and telling her how Harry Potter, _the_ Harry Potter, had asked her to the biggest dance the school will ever have and she remembers picking out her best dress and spending ages on her hair and she remembers how he had spent the whole time looking at Cho Chang. 

"I remember, Harry," she says, smiling because he really was quite sweet when he was trying to dance even if he did keep standing on her toes. The Beauxbatons boy could dance. That was about it, though. 

"Sorry for being a shit date," Harry drops his head onto his hands and looks up at her, his eyes wide. He blinks. "You were very beautiful." 

She blushes, waving away the compliment. "Thanks, Harry. You weren't so bad yourself." 

"We were the youngest," he says like it's an argument. "Me and you. You and I Hermione would say. Remember Hermione was there with Krum -- Ron went on about that for months." 

"And now he's dating Lavender," she says, biting her lip when Harry swings forward and brushes her arm with his hand. He leaves it there, just where her bangles meet her wrist, and she lets him because this moment here, this is the closest she has felt to him, to anyone really, since that night she kissed him. So what if he's drunk. "Why?"

Harry snorts, rolling his eyes. "Merlin knows what Ron's thinking half the time. No offence to Lavender but he's not exactly, you know. You know." He waves his hand wildly to make his point. 

"And seeing as you're such a Casanova yourself," Parvati says, laughing. "I can see why he can be embarrassing." 

"Shut up," Harry groans, dropping his head down again. "I'm scared to drink anything within a Quidditch pitch of Romilda Vane. You know, Parvati, she's trying to drug me." 

"Is she?" Parvati's seen the new interest in Harry this year. Not that it's surprising with the growth spurt, the muscles from Quidditch and the title he has now along with that, and, well, he's not a bad kisser from what she's experienced. See, from an innocent bystander's point of view she can understand the appeal. "I'm sure she's not trying to drug you." 

"She is," Harry nods. "Love potion."

"Oh." That's more Romilda's style. 

"Yeah," Harry says like it's the end of the world. Maybe he has a secret girlfriend who's feeling upset about all this attention from other girls. Or a boy, everyone sees the way Harry and Malfoy act around each other, Parvati doesn't think she's thinking too far out of the box. "Maybe I need a love potion. I was hopeless with Cho." 

"It's just one problem after the other with you, isn't it, Harry," she says, touching his arm to show she's joking. She recalls the D.A meetings where Harry would stumble and blush whenever he was near Cho Chang, the awkwardness increasing ten fold sometime after Valentine's Day, and then, in a stunning contrast, this year she's lost count of the amount of times she's seen him duck into random classes and behind tapestries to escape his quickly growing fan club. "Not enough girls, too many girls." 

Harry lifts his head to meet her eyes, his pupil's blown from the Firewhiskey. She wonders how much is left. But when he speaks he sounds perfectly sober. "Hey, remember you kissed me?"

Parvati stills. "Yeah, I remember." It's been three months. She hasn't been counting the days, she just remembers because it's the day the leaves turned brown, that's all. 

"Would it be okay if I did it again?" Harry asks, his voice so light in contrast with the line of his mouth and the darkness of his eyes. Her heart feels like a butterfly, its wings fluttering desperately to escape her chest, but she nods, smiles a little to match the one now on Harry's face, and then they both lean in. 

Harry's hand curves her cheek, holding her close as his lips open against hers almost as soon as their lips touch. She wonders how far he got with Cho, guessing not very by the clumsy feel of his tongue in her mouth, his eagerness combined with the alcohol making him fast and dirty, the slide of their lips and the slick of their tongues making Parvati's head spin. 

Harry's fingers fumble at her waist and she moves closer to him, her hand at his neck just where his hair ends. She's kissed a couple of boys, that Hufflepuff in fifth year and the Beauxbatons boy had tried it on at the Ball, but this feels more grown up somehow if only because of the spice of Firewhiskey on Harry's tongue. 

Harry pulls away, his breathing heavy to match hers, and laughs shakily. "Sorry. I -- uh. I probably shouldn't have done that." 

Parvati shakes her head quickly. She presses her fingers to her lips, smiling at the way they seem to tingle, a different sort of magic. "No, it's fine. I liked it. I said yes, didn't I." She turns, looking at a spot on the wall over Harry's shoulder and tries to guess what will happen next. 

What happens is that Harry's hand touches her shoulder, so softly it barely feels there at all, and says, "Can I do it again?" 

(Parvati remembers reading somewhere that practice makes perfect and applies that to kissing, smiling against Harry's mouth when the taste becomes familiar, and when she leaves the room, walking into the common room beside him, she feels somewhat close to an expert, the way her top is rumpled at the hems and the swollenness of her lips evidence for her case.)

\--

It becomes a regular thing after that. As regular as catching eyes across the room and hastily scribbled notes can be. It's thrilling, Parvati thinks, keeping it a secret. It was a mutual unspoken decision made the last time and half of Parvati wants to tell Lavender everything but the other half loves the part where she gets a note from across the room with a time and a place or she trips him up on the way to class and nods to convey her question.

Classmates' relatives are being brutally murdered and the most evil dark wizard of all time is on the rise but in secret corridors behind tapestries she never knew existed she has the boy who's destined to save them all's mouth on her neck and his hands on her thighs and it's tragic what's happening outside these walls, disgustingly evil, but she's sixteen and this boy is making her feel like nothing is wrong at all.

She's read books -- Hermione thinks she doesn't read, she knows this, but she does, and in her books the girls always fell in love so easily and Parvati thought they were dumb and predictable but secretly she always hoped it would happen to her, and now, on a smaller scale it is,and it’s just as exciting and scary as the girls in the books said.

\--

Ron is poisoned on his 17th birthday. Harry saved him with a bezoar he remembered from first year Potions and Lavender harasses him for information whenever she can. The poisoning results in a heated conversation between Harry and Hermione in the corner of the common room, their hushed voices and tense faces so similar to the one from months ago. It ends with Hermione storming out of the portrait hole close to tears and Harry leaving moments later.

They have secrets, the three of them. Big secrets that have to do with the war and You-Know- Who; secrets that are pulling at the seams of the Golden Trio. Parvati understands that Harry can't tell her, as much as he wants to, but sometimes she feels so helpless and out of the loop.

\--

Lavender dumps Ron a couple of weeks after Ron gets poisoned. Parvati lets her cry on her shoulder and tells her they'll be others and wonders how Harry is dealing with Ron on his end.

(Hermione was the one who told Harry about the big break-up who had then shrugged and said, "Oh," and no more was said. The silver lining that comes out of it is that the Golden Trio are back and when they sit around the table by the fire, laughing at something only they would understand, it looks like they're shining.)

\--

The night things first get further than kissing, when she falls into the moment and kisses him harder and doesn’t tell him to move his hands when they move to the waistband of her skirt, they sit afterwards and talk about the things they haven’t before. He starts by telling her that Professor Lupin was one of his dad’s best friends and it moves on gently from there. She tells him the stories her dad used to tell her to send her to sleep every night and he tells her his dad was an illegal Animagus and a Chaser. He talks about his mum, that her best subject was Potions, and how everyone loved her. She describes her first memory which involved her mum and dad chased her and Padma around the house for ages until they were all breathless and laughing. He tells her more little things about his mum and dad, all the things he has collected over the years, and Parvati listens attentively, amazed to be trusted with such thoughts and memories.

\--

"Since when are you interested in Quidditch?"

"Are you pretending you can't remember going to Tornado games every summer or has someone removed your memory, Padma?" Parvati laughs, feeling somewhere high and free. She winds the scarlet scarf around her neck, untucking her hair from underneath.

"School matches, smart-arse," Padma says. She's doing that smirk Parvati has never quite perfected where one side of her mouth quirks up and her eyes roll like whoever she's speaking to is completely wasting her time. "And while you're trying to think of an excuse you might as well tell me who made that mark on your neck that you're trying to cover up."

"I'm not trying to cover up anything," Parvati argues, her hand touching the bruise under her hair. "It's cold outside."

Padma snorts. "It's unseasonably warm for March. Come on, P, you've been sneaking around for months, give me some credit."

They haven't been sneaking. That makes it sound like something bad or purposeful or -- anything else that isn't fun and surprising and still somewhat accidental. “Nothing’s been happening.”

“Then why did Lavender demand I give her her best friend back last night?” Padma leans against the wall, watching Parvati fumble through an excuse. "When I've barely seen you in two weeks?" It hasn’t felt like she’s been meeting Harry that much and then when she does see him it feels all too quick. There’s something in there, something about falling and being careful.

She doesn’t tell Padma all of this. She’ll tell her one day soon. Now, she sniffs and turns her head, unwinding her scarf again. She presses her finger to the bruise Harry made the other night in a hidden alcove behind a tapestry. 

“Lavender’s one to talk,” she says carefully. “She was with Ron all the time.”

“You know what she’s like, though,” Padma points out. It’s not that the two don’t like each other, it’s just they have such different opinions and interests that’s hard for them to see eye to eye and that extends to friendship. “If she’s not got someone to fawn over her at all times she feels worthless.”

“I don’t _fawn over_ her,” Parvati argues, dumping her scarf on her bed and leading Padma out of the room with a sigh. “She’s my best friend; watch what you’re saying about her.”

There’s a group of sixth years in the middle of the common room, all of them decked out in scarlet and gold. The kid from the speech at the start of term, Colin Creevey, has a poster clutched in his hands, jumping from foot to foot when Hermione charms the paint to sparkle and move across the page.

“I’m watching you change the subject,” Padma says as they make their way over to their classmates, stepping away to talk to a fifth year Parvati recognises from the D.A when Parvati hits her arm and shushes her.

The school swarms into the stalls and Parvati ends up between Padma and Seamus. The captains lead their teams out, Harry shaking Zacharia Smith's hand, and then they're off.

Seamus keeps laughing hysterically at the way McLaggen is trying to shout instructions from the goal posts and he almost falls over when McLaggan flies out to meet the Gryffindor Chasers as they try to intercept Hufflepuff, letting in three goals as a result. 

Luna Lovegood is commentating and Parvati would never admit it but she quite enjoys the way Luna is describing everything but the game. Or, rather, she describes the game in her own loony way -- Cadwallader, the Hufflepuff Chaser, actually has a rare disease chasing him to drop the Quaffle constantly and the Seeker uses unicorn shampoo to get his hair that shiny and Ginny Weasley is a very nice girl, did you know? 

She knows Harry ended up taking Luna to the Slug Club Christmas Party but that's not why she's maybe slightly jealous of Loony Lovegood. Parvati thinks --

She stops thinking at that moment because Seamus stops laughing and Hermione is gasping and clutching Parvati's arm, her nails digging into her arm.

Parvati looks up to see Harry falling through the air, his hair flying in the wind and one arm outstretched, McLaggen's arm frozen with the Beater bat held high. The hand not held by Hermione is clenched tightly, her mouth open in shock, and she watches the Beaters, Coote and Peakes, swoop in and catch him, balancing him unsteadily between them as they spiral to the ground slowly. The team follow quickly, Hufflepuff too, and Hermione is gone from Parvati's side and at Harry's faster than thought possible. A stretcher is produced and Harry is gone, Madame Pomfrey looking after her most frequent patient.

"Fuck," Seamus swears beside her. "McLaggen. _Jesus_."

The game continues with a tiny third year coming on as Harry's reserve. Gryffindor loses spectacularly.

She doesn't go to see him because Ron is still in there and she doesn't think he would believe the "I have homework for Harry" line because Hermione is in all of their classes and also, it's Saturday. She finds out from Hermione that he has a fractured skull with a bruise the size of a Snitch already darkening his forehead but Pomfrey says he'll be allowed out in a couple of days. Hermione looks at her curiously when she sighs in relief and when she hurries away with a thanks she notices the way Hermione's mouth falls open.

\--

He finds her in the Owlery the Monday he gets let out of the hospital wing. She was sending a letter to her mother. She told her about the weather getting warmer and that Trelawney says she should think about pursuing a career in tarot cards and that she misses her terribly. She coaxes Apollo from his perch and strokes his head as she ties on the parchment.

"You didn't come to visit me."

She walks to the window and let's Apollo go, watching him fly around the lake. "I couldn't think of a good enough excuse."

"We don't have to keep it a secret, Pav," Harry says, meeting her in the middle of the room. The bruise on his head is just as big as Hermione said. It almost reaches his scar. She reaches up to touch the edge.

"No? I kind of like that," she says, and she's being completely honest.

"Is that the only thing you like about me?"

"Your hands are okay, I suppose," she concedes, turning one over in her hand. "You have this huge ego, though, it's off-putting. I like you best when you're quiet."

Harry laughs, the sound echoing around the room and making the owls hoot indignantly. "I'm not supposed to do anything strenuous."

"What kind of girl do you think I am?" She winks at him. "Come on. It stinks in here."

"You haven't even asked about my head," Harry says as he follows her down the stairs. They've made it through two floors and along three corridors before he grabs her hand, the gesture bold in an empty corridor. " _Parvati_."

"How's your head?" she asks, when they find an empty class, the one two along from their first meeting, making a show of rolling her eyes then sitting opposite him at the table by the back wall. "That bruise is huge."

"He bloody fractured my skull," Harry argues, and then stops, his eyes on Parvati's palm on the table between them. "What happened to your hand?"

She curls her hands into fists, watching her nails indent her skin, and remembers the way Harry had fallen through the sky. "Nervous habit."

"Are you okay? They look sore," Harry asks, concerned. She remembers thinking of the way Harry looks out for everyone in his circle, doing what he can to stand up for and protect the people he cares about, and she realises with a smile that she's somehow in that circle now, that look's directed at her. "Pomfrey's probably got something."

"I'm fine. It's just a scratch." She kicks her foot against his ankle, hooking it around when he tries to retaliate. "So, how did your team take the defeat?"

"They said it wasn't my fault," Harry pushes out a laugh, thinking the opposite. "It's likely that Slytherin will lose to Ravenclaw, hopefully Malfoy makes his excuses to get out of playing again and the reserve is nowhere near as good, and we've beaten Ravenclaw before." He nods decisively. "We can win this."

"You've been on the team since first year haven't you?" This gets a grin that's mixed somewhere between bashful and proud. "D'you think you'll go professional after school?"

"You mean after the battle with Voldemort?" Harry smiles ruefully, nudging her shoulder to calm the worry she feels so much now. He says it like that sometimes, light and with a wry smile, and maybe it's a coping mechanism but Parvati thinks he's accepted his fate and there's nothing that can be done about it except fight. "I dunno if I'm that good. I've always kinda fancied being an Auror."

Yeah. That fits. She can't imagine Harry living the quiet life, even after everything he's been through and all the stuff he still has to face.

"What about you?"

Parvati doesn't like thinking too far ahead to a time where Hogwarts isn't still her home. The dream created seven years ago is still at the back of her mind waiting for her to do something about it. She pulls it to the front and considers telling him, blurting it out before she's finished thinking. "I want to make Muggle films."

And the look on Harry's face tells her she's surprised him so much so she wonders what he thought she would say. She laughs, feeling happy and bright and so close to that feeling she got when her mum told her she could do anything.

"That would be amazing, Parvati," Harry says, "I didn't know you liked them."

"My dad took me and Padma for our birthday one year," she starts and the whole story pours out. She tells him how she likes to go whenever she's home and that she likes to pick a film at random, something unlike anything she'd seen before, because she wants to experience it all. "I don't know how I'll get into it, if it's even possible, but that's what I really want."

"So much of this world revolves around the Ministry I forget that there're other jobs out there. I bet you'll become the first witch to win an Oscar -- A big award for films," he explains when Parvati tilts her head. "Merlin, I've only ever seen bits of films. I used to sneak down when my relatives were watching one and hide at the door until they saw me."

"Oh, Harry, we'll go --" When? How? Just as the Death Eaters are murdering another family they'll pop down to the cinema and catch a couple of films?

But Harry leans in and kisses her, catching her lip with his teeth. "It's a date."

\--

Harry gave her the chance to stop sneaking around but she didn't take it. There's a worry at the back of her kind that of everyone knew it would somehow change them which is stupid and unlikely but it's a worry nonetheless. She tells Padma, though, a couple of days after the time in the Owlery.

"The boy from before," she starts, and then chews a mouthful of pie slowly before she says anything else because she knows how much Padma hates drawn out sentences.

"Yes?" Padma turns to face her. "Who is he then? Is it the same one?"

"It's Harry." There's no one around them but she lowers her voice slightly anyway. Force of habit.

"Harry Potter?"

"What other ones do we know?" She holds up her hand to stop the oncoming list.

Padma closes her mouth and blinks. Parvati’s dying to know what she’s thinking but she doesn’t ask. “How?”

“It just kind of happened,” she says, which is exactly the truth. “I like him.”

“That’s good,” Padma says, and then she smiles, and this is the twisted blessing Parvati has been looking for. “Have you forgiven him for the Yule Ball yet?”

“We’re working on it,” Parvati grins, swinging her hair forward to hide her blush from her sister. She likes talking about this, after keeping quiet for so long it makes it feel so much more real telling even one person. It’s an important person, one that counts.

\--

The next week Harry almost kills Draco Malfoy in the girls' bathroom on the second floor because it's been a quiet couple of weeks so obviously he has to create a bit of excitement and get himself stuck in detention every Saturday for the rest of term. It's May now, the grounds are warm and the lake sparkles invitingly, ripples tracking the lazy laps of the Giant Squid, and Parvati can't imagine being stuck in a dingy cupboard for a day while everyone is out enjoying themselves -- then she remembers who she's thinking about and that cupboards aren't that new to him. 

But it's not the good weather that has Harry sitting dejectedly down by the lake a couple of days after the Incident (Malfoy is fine, by the way. Or, well, as fine as he can be -- but from what she's heard Harry was defending himself against an Unforgivable, he just picked the wrong curse). The Quidditch final is coming up but their Captain has gone and gotten himself out of the match leaving the team unsteady again after finally getting everyone back together finally. The Captain in question is sitting with his back against a tree, his wand drumming on his bent knee, when Parvati finds him. 

"You alright?" 

Harry looks up, startled, smiling when he sees her. "Yeah, you?"

"I'm not the one who landed themselves in detention forever," Parvati laughs, settling on the grass beside Harry. The wand keeps tapping, emitting red sparks. She reaches out and touches Harry's hand. The wand stops. 

"Don't rub it in," Harry groans, tipping his head back. He turns his hand over to link his fingers with hers, the gesture surprising her out here. "I didn't mean it, you know?" 

"What?"

"Malfoy. I read the spell in a book -- I didn't know it would do that." The desperate _I'm not a murderer_ goes unsaid. 

"I know that, Harry." 

"I've fucked up, Parvati."

This isn't something she can disagree with so she stays silent, looking at the way his fingers fold around her own, the scar from Umbridge shining from the sun filtering through the leaves above their heads. "Lavender's thinking about trying to get Ron back." 

Harry snorts. "No offence to Lavender but they're better off without each other, aren't they?"

"I know that. You know that. Lavender knows that." Parvati shrugs, her shoulder nudging Harry's. "Have you ever heard of Lavender giving up what she wants?"

"Poor Ron," Harry mumbles. He drops his head back against the tree, laughing. "Parvati, hey, Parvati."

"What?"

He kisses her, his hand on her knee. This is the first time this has happened outside of empty classrooms and hidden alcoves and it makes Parvati shiver, the hand on her knee pulling her closer.

“How did this happen?” Harry asks. “You and me?”

“I didn’t know there was anything,” Parvati says, widening her eyes and watching the way Harry’s cheeks flush just slightly. “I’m kidding. I dunno, how does anything happen?”

“You sound like Dumbledore,” he says, kissing her again then ducking to press his mouth at the gap where her shirt dips. Parvati casts her eyes around them and sees they’re relatively alone, a couple of Hufflepuffs over by a tree the only ones who can see them. “You smell nicer than he does.”

“Than who --? Oh. Dumbledore. Don’t talk about him just now.” She threads her fingers in his hair, tilting his head to kiss him. It’s -- extraordinary is the only word to describe it, how easy and comfortable this has become in only a few short months. She knows the shape of his mouth when he's seconds from tears but she also knows the way it feels pressed against her own, chapped but soft and tasting of pumpkin juice half the time. She has the sigh he makes when she surprises him committed to memory and the way he bites his lip when she shifts to press her hips against his is something she doesn’t think she’ll ever forget. She knows that she should ask for more, demand it even. For hand holding in the corridors and Hogsmeade dates and that Lavender wouldn't put up with secret kisses that no one can know about, but her and Lavender aren't actually as similar as everyone thinks and Parvati's content enough with Padma knowing, and Hermione figuring it out, and everyone else doesn’t matter at the moment.

“Do you want to go back inside?” Harry asks, shifting to kiss her ear, his breath hot on her neck.

“Anything to cheer you up,” she replies, pushing him away gently to get to her feet, tugging him up with her. They walk to the castle, their hands brushing and their smiles hiding nothing, and when they get to just outside of Gryffindor Tower Parvati stops and, feeling brave, she leans up and kisses him right there.

\--

It happens in a blur. One minute she's sitting read a book beside the fire the next Harry is sprinting into the room and up the stairs, a flurry of whispers following him. She goes back to her book, figuring he'll tell her later, and then she's being tugged through the portrait hole and pulled over to the shadowy corner away from The Fat Lady's view. He kisses her hard, his mouth insistent and his hands clutching her tightly, and then he says he has to go with Dumbledore. She opens her mouth to voice one of the many questions but he kisses her again, that trace of desperation just inside his lip making her chest tight with fear, and tells her to find Ron and Hermione in a couple of hours, they'll know what to do. 

What happens that night is this: Dumbledore dies at the hand of a Death Eater at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Some people say it was Snape who killed him, some say Harry was there. It's hazy, the only people who know are the ones who were there, but Harry's tearstained face and the way his hand grips hers when he finally seeks her out two days later tells her enough. 

He tells her this can't happen anymore, this thing that's been happening all year, that's been making Parvati so happy and yet so scared it makes it hard to breathe. He says he has to go off on a mission and You-Know-Who has too many targets around him, he can't possibly add her to the list. The way he says it, his mouth turned down at one corner, his eyes never wavering from hers, tells her he cares about her, he really does, and that's enough for her to nod and accept what he's saying. 

"We had a good run, you and me," he says, sliding his fingers through hers the way they’ve done so many times before. 

She holds on, grabbing on to the last few minutes before everything changes. "We did. You know, if someone said to me at the start of the year...”  

And Harry shrugs. "You always seemed to out of my league," which makes Parvati roll her eyes and tell him maybe if he'd been a better date this could have happened years ago. 

"I never did ask you to dance," he laughs. 

"You can ask me when this is all over," she says, pushing all of her hope into that statement and when Harry ducks in and kisses her one last time, the taste of something unexpected, something she thinks would be pink and fluffy had it escaped his mouth, makes her smile. 


End file.
